


like fragments of glass

by appleofmysirius



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Infidelity, Reader-Insert, for sakusa at least, there's no happy ending here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleofmysirius/pseuds/appleofmysirius
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi deals with the fallout of a failed marriage.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	like fragments of glass

**Author's Note:**

> cw toxic relationships, cw cheating

Sakusa Kiyoomi wonders when his marriage had gone down the drain. Why you had thrown away the life of comfort at home, a husband and your little baby who love you, for the flashier spot by the side of his team mate, maybe that’s when your marriage had fallen apart. 

It’s a thought that occupies his mind often, especially when he watches Atsumu bounce his little one in his arms, like she was his daughter, the bright smile on your face as you wrap your hand around Atsumu’s bicep. It’s almost blinding, your happiness, amplified only tenfold when juxtaposed against the miserable thunderclouds that have gathered around him as of late. 

There’s a sour taste in his mouth as he comes to the horrible realisation that you’ve thrown him away- just him. Not your daughter who spends weekdays with you and weekends with him. Said weekdays are spent with you and Atsumu, the new permanent fixture of your life, your new bedfellow, best friend and soulmate. Though he supposes the last one- the soulmates bit- is an area where he’s never been able to usurp Atsumu. Such was the nature of your marriage, he was comfortably and distinctly second place. Second place to a man who struggled to commit to you until you reappeared in his life for the third time, then dating his teammate. 

But your relationship was a farce, your real love bubbling under the surface of your skin for a man who wasn’t Kiyoomi, who’ll never be Kiyoomi. Or rather, who Kiyoomi will never be. Atsumu is his diametric opposite in every way- blond and dark hair, extroverted and introverted, the one you love and the placeholder. 

But Kiyoomi loves you, fervently and passionately, so when you quietly confessed to him after a fruitless marriage counselling session that you’re done, that you’re moving on, he accepts it like a bitter pill to swallow. It hurts but he gets it down. And he hates the numbness that washes over him throughout all the mediation sessions, the court hearing, the signing of the papers, the social worker interviews. Everything he approaches with a clinical precision, aiming for the best possible situation for you and your child, but none of that matters when Atsumu meets you outside the lawyers’ offices, a kiss to your forehead and scooping up Kiyoomi’s daughter without so much as a glance in his direction. He’s fighting for a family that isn’t even his anymore. 

Kiyoomi sits in his car, now emptied of your sunglasses and mints, CDs and wet wipes, of the baby seat, of the books and toys you kept in the back, and cries. The ink is just about dry on your divorce papers, the separation permanent. He digs his hands into his eyes, sobs spilling from his lips as the tidal wave of heartbreak crashes into him. He feels so utterly alone, but he always has been- the lone party in your marriage, in your relationship. 

His heart has been ripped out of his chest; he watches it travel along in Atsumu’s sleek black car, yearning and longing to even travel back to five months ago, still stuck in your farcical marriage but you had been his. His to love and to hold and to cherish, but all the love he could offer you was never enough. Not when there was a high school fling who captured your heart, broke it in college and popped back up as the teammate of your then-husband. 

He picks himself up after the moment’s reprieve, driving back to his lonely flat. The place he’d been staying in ever since he decided to move out so you could raise your daughter in the marital home. But he never counted on Atsumu moving right in, making himself comfortable in a home and a family that used to be Kiyoomi’s. He glances down at his wedding ring, the only thing he has left of your time together, apart from the memories, and sighs. The ring comes off. 

**Five years ago**

Kiyoomi’s heart is fit to burst. The two of you have just married, moved into a new house in the suburbs, and are now preparing to host a house-warming party. The guest list was small, per his request, only friends and family on either side. He’d invited his teammates and his cousin which made up the majority of his social circle and for once he was looking forward to having a bunch of people at home. If this meant he got to celebrate you and the love you shared, then he was alright. 

Besides, it was nice watching you interact with his teammates, with his loved ones. Because they were yours too, now that the two of you are connected as one. You return to his side once you make sure everyone has their plates full, leaning briefly against his shoulder. Kiyoomi’s fingers lightly grasp yours. 

“How’s everything?” He queries, murmuring into your hair. 

“I can tell everyone’s stomachs are full,” you laugh, touching his side briefly before floating over to Atsumu. There’s a light in your eyes when you face the blond, your touch a little too familiar in the way you squeeze his arms and shoulders when your husband is standing right there. But Kiyoomi knows that you’re just like that with Atsumu, a close friend from high school. Though it doesn’t keep the sour feeling from bubbling in his gut, jealousy churning away. 

It looks like you and Atsumu are two cogs to a machine that just click in place. Not one to be confrontational, Kiyoomi ignores whatever’s going on there and converses for a moment with your parents. He busies himself around the flat when it appears you and Atsumu are still wrapped up in the conversation that you’re having. And when Atsumu leaves- one of the last to leave, nearing the end of Kiyoomi’s social battery- you insist on walking him out. And then there’s the hushed conversation he catches bits and pieces of through the thick wood of the door. 

_“I would’ve been there for ya if only yer waited.”_

_“Atsumu, I couldn’t wait forever. And Kiyoomi, he’s ready to love me now. When I need him to.”_

Pleased, Kiyoomi continues to clean up. Yes, he is ready to love you now and ready to love you however you need him to. Unlike Atsumu who’s barely a player in your life, Kiyoomi knows that the two of you had a past that never really took you anywhere. But he’s your end destination, your end goal, so it doesn’t matter that Atsumu was a pit stop along the way. 

He only wishes later on that Atsumu was not so persistent in getting you to be with him. 

Because the things that come with a new marriage, like a shy budding flower- the sweet glances, soft touches and whispered words of adoration- none of them seem to come to him. They’re lavished on Atsumu for some reason. All your attention is on his blond teammate, who ends up being invited to all your outings with Kiyoomi (you refuse to call them dates), who somehow ends up not being the third wheel despite also not being the one married to you. Increasingly, Kiyoomi is made aware of what he married into- a lingering relationship between two passionate lovers who couldn’t commit to each other. It’s apparent that so long as Atsumu was ready to receive, you were ready to give. 

Kiyoomi, being the one who could commit to you, was inadvertently strung along for the ride. 

To your credit, you initially make a valiant effort to pretend to be in love with Kiyoomi. The bare minimum may be in hell, but you’re just skirting above the line. You’re on time for all dinner dates, you make an effort to dress well and be engaged in conversation with him, the outstanding texting conversation with Atsumu forgotten in the time that your phone is in your bag. You initiate affection and you kiss and hug him when he comes home from work. 

What he doesn’t notice at first is that you toss out affection to him in scraps, a kiss here, a hug there. Behind his back, you hold Atsumu, fingers intertwined as he tells you about his day, in the discrete cover of his apartment while your husband awaits your return from work. 

**Four Years Ago**

Suggesting that the two of you try for a child is Kiyoomi’s last resort to fix your slowly deteriorating marriage. His suggestion is murmured at a timing most opportune- you’d been a little down lately. Coincidentally, Atsumu had just been traded to a team in South Korea for a season. 

You smile happily at his suggestion, eager to fill the void in your life, and get to work. In between actually trying for this baby, you throw yourself into research, looking at tips, shopping for clothes and furniture and books. Kiyoomi follows you to all your classes dutifully, learning alongside you, thankful for the renewed life in your marriage. 

The delivery is smooth, and nine hours later, you’re heaving from your effort, holding your pink little baby in your arms. Kiyoomi is in awe, a new vigour under his wings as he gazes at his family. His heart yearns to love the both of you, filled to the brim and spilling out with affection as you nuzzle your daughter’s cheek with your nose. 

“I love you,” Kiyoomi murmurs, kissing your forehead. “I love the both of you so much.”

Despite the fuzzy feelings surrounding you, there is a piercing clarity with the way you make a non-committal sound at his declaration. But Kiyoomi thinks that you’re just tired, maybe that’s why. 

**Three Years Ago**

Atsumu’s triumphant return from his season abroad has basically cast Kiyoomi aside. You make up for lost time, spending all your time outside of work and your daughter with Atsumu. And it would be funny if it weren’t so glaringly obvious what the two of you were doing- his teammate always backing out of team gatherings and extra practice the exact same days you said you’d be working late. 

Kiyoomi does not want to put a name to the dalliance that you have with Atsumu, preferring to think of it as a mere inconvenience in his life. To ascribe any more deference to it would be to acknowledge your unfaithfulness and Kiyoomi is having a hard time managing the fragments of your marriage as is. It’s like swallowing shards of broken glass whenever he thinks about the two of you, the lump in his throat at times unbearable when he watches you flit around the house, love drunk after a clandestine meeting with Atsumu- as he wonders when you’ll notice his presence in the corner; he was like a ghost. 

“It’s our anniversary this Tuesday,” he says while the two of you wash up after dinner. Your daughter sits in her high chair, playing with her spoon and cup, babbling contendly. 

“Oh,” you shake some hair out of your eyes, “Is it?” 

Kiyoomi freezes, but you quickly add. “I’m kidding, Kiyoomi. I remember. Wanna have a night in?” 

He nods, allowing a smile to creep on to his face for the first time in months, imagining a nice night in with you and his baby girl, all cuddled up and cosy. 

And so the night is spent with your head on his chest, resting under a blanket. Your daughter slumbers in his arms after watching a couple of kids’ movies, so you switch to a nostalgic film from your high school years. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close to him. 

“I remember,” you say, with a wistful quality to your voice, “When this movie came out. Atsumu brought me to see it, and he cried buckets at the end.” 

“And the sequel came out when we were in Uni- it was our first date.” The longing in your voice for a time long gone is palpable and it hurts Kiyoomi because weren’t you the one who said he was willing to love you now? He’s here right now, he’s your present and he should be your future. Atsumu is in your past, why do you keep lingering in the past? 

And it feels dirty, sitting here and watching a movie that clearly means more to you than it does to him, a movie that holds the meaning of a someone; a someone other than your husband. As you sit with your back against his chest, you don’t see the crumpling of his expression as the realisation hits him in full force. 

You don’t love him. 

**Two Years Ago**

You bring your daughter by the gym a lot more now, under the guise of introducing her to her father’s profession. But you coincidentally hand her off to Kiyoomi once he’s out of the shower, claiming the need to answer a call, and he’ll notice Atsumu disappear behind the very hallway you just entered. The signs are there because he’s looking for them at this point.

Still, he takes his little girl and brings her to play with her Uncle Shoyou who always has a lollipop and a piggyback ride for her, while Uncle Koutarou needs to be restrained from spoiling her too much. Kiyoomi’s heart warms when he sees her this happy, peals of laughter as she rides high up on Uncle Koutarou’s shoulders. 

Now that she’s occupied for the moment, he goes off in search of you. A masochistic need to confirm with his own eyes what he’s suspected for years, but now that the signs are in front of him, he can’t avoid them. Like fragments of glass caught in the sunlight, he can see them, but if he picks them up, surely they’ll slice him open. 

Hiding around the corner, he hears Atsumu crooning something to you. His hand strokes the back of your head. 

“Leave,” he whispers, “Leave him, Y/N, _please_. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, but I’m ready for ya.” 

You look up at him with twinkling eyes, “‘Tsumu, I can’t. I have a daught-”

“And I’ll take care of the both of ya. I promise.” He reassures you, leaning down for a kiss. “I’m tired of seeing ya miserable in a marriage yer don’t want.” 

You reciprocate enthusiastically, cupping his face and pulling him close. 

Kiyoomi’s fists are clenched hard enough to draw blood from his palms as he watches with his own eyes a sight that is immensely more painful than anything he’s cooked up in his nightmares. It is perhaps the tangibility, the realness of it all- the body he had held as the two of you woke up in the morning now holding on to and kissing someone else. Watching the real you, not the one in his nightmares, kiss the real Atsumu, love the real Atsumu, confirming every fear he’s had since the two of you first got married- Kiyoomi sinks against the wall. Digging his palms into his eyes, he tries not to cry, but he can’t help the stray tears that leak out as he struggles to compose himself before he returns to his daughter. 

**One Year Ago**

The marriage is not working. Kiyoomi confessed to you that he saw you with Atsumu two months after the encounter, voice pinched over dinner as he recalled the moment where his heart felt like it was in free fall to the earth’s core. You had gasped, as though your not-so-subtle affair with his teammate would have escaped his notice. (Though it did for three solid years). 

Kiyoomi, desperate to patch things up and to ignore the fact that you responded positively to Atsumu’s suggestion to leave him, suggests couples’ counselling, mediation, even a temporary separation if it’s what you want. You seem reluctant to try anything but a glance over to your daughter, who sits in the living room as she colours something in her book, has you sighing and relenting. 

As though now would be the time for you to finally put your best foot forward and try in this marriage. 

He takes your hand, lightly threading your fingers together, naively thinking he can fix things. 

**Present**

He stands at the front door of what used to be his home. Now, it belongs to you. Atsumu answers the door with a wince, noting Kiyoomi’s sour expression, hastily mentioning that your daughter was finishing getting ready for her weekend with dad. 

She runs out a moment after, straight into his arms where he catches her, hoisting her up. He kisses her cheek affectionately, rewarded with a bright smile from his little girl. He waits for you to emerge, her overnight bag in your hand. Kiyoomi had her clothes, toothbrush, even some of her toys, at his place. But he knew there were a couple of things she couldn’t sleep without, as well as her kiddie vitamins and whatever else you saw fit to throw in there. 

“Here you go,” you say, passing her bag to him. Kiyoomi accepts it easily, slinging it across his shoulder, while he still holds on to his daughter with one arm. You send him a polite smile, bidding your daughter goodbye with a kiss on her cheek and a squeeze of her hand. This is the closest you’ve stood next to Kiyoomi in months, and he’s taken aback at the familiarity of it all, your smell, your warmth. When you pull away, he glances down and sees that you’re glowing as you move back to Atsumu’s side, his hand resting protectively on your stomach. 

His daughter bids you and Atsumu a chirpy goodbye with a promise to call you once tonight, before insisting Kiyoomi take her back to his place so she can play with him. He acquiesces, laughing quietly at her fiery declaration. As he turns and leaves you and Atsumu behind, he can feel like the threads that try to pull him back grow thinner, weaker. 

They’re still there, and all of this hurts, but he can rest in the comfort that his daughter is alright, that she’s growing up in two households filled with love, that the only casualty here is him. 

**Author's Note:**

> shameless tumblr plug - @1tooru 
> 
> YA ne ways i love 2 torture omiomi


End file.
